


Have Yourself a Coffee and a Jaskier Too

by MXTERIOUS



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Because Yennefer runs this ship, Coffee Shop AUs rule, Complete, Everyone is Poly because Witcher, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hinted BDSM, Jaskier is happy to be here, M/M, More fluff than angst, Multi, One Shot, One violent fight scene, Polyamory, Sam is wrong, Sexual Fantasy, Threesome - F/M/M, Yennefer runs this shop and ship, You can have your cake and eat it too SAM, the rest is fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23840755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MXTERIOUS/pseuds/MXTERIOUS
Summary: Geralt is just an Uber Eats driver doing his best, but then he meets Yennefer at "The Lodge Cafe." Now, it's all going to change!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Have Yourself a Coffee and a Jaskier Too

**Author's Note:**

> I literally created this story and this account to prove a friend wrong. Enjoy!

Geralt couldn’t recall the first time he picked up an order from “The Lodge Cafe,” but he remembered the first time he saw Yennefer. From behind the counter, she was pushing down a french press, adding in sugar and frothing milk, concentrating with a furrowed brow. When she waved a hand over the ceramic mug, chanting something under her breath, he nearly leaped over the counter. 

Thankfully, he held back. The woman he assumed was a witch turned around and said to her elderly customer, “Here, Miss McKalister, I’ve added something for your aching bones.” 

“Thank you very much,” Miss McKalister said as she limped over to a small table. 

Geralt walked up to the counter. The barista’s eyes caught his, taking in his yellow eyes and grey hair. For a split second, her eyes widened in surprise. Then, an amused grin took over. 

“I didn’t realize you lot were hurting so bad for cash.” She motioned to his jacket. “Uber Eats? Really?” 

Geralt glared at her. “And I didn’t realize witches needed to brew coffee to get by.”

“I am a sorceress, dear, get it right.” Moving back over to her work station, she pressed down on a different nozzle, making another fresh cup. “I’m Yennefer, originally from Vengerberg, but it was a shithole and now I’m here. You?” 

After a beat of wondering why she bothered, he muttered, “Geralt of Rivia, I came to Kaer Morhen many years ago.” 

Yennefer nodded. “Back in the ye old witcher training days, no doubt.” She poured the coffee into a to-go cup. She added sugar, some cinnamon, and just a drop of milk. To her left she picked up a bag, plopping it in front of Geralt. “Here’s the order, and a cup for the road.” 

Geralt narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the small cardboard item. “I don’t have any aching bones.”

Yennefer just smirked. “Give me a night or two and I can fix that.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes, took the bag, and left. Despite his better judgement, he drank the damn brew after the drop off, figuring if it poisoned him he could call the day off. It was delicious, possibly the best coffee he had ever drank in his long life. 

She’d obviously cast a spell on her coffee beans to bring customers back. 

The next time Geralt went to The Lodge, Yennefer didn’t have the order ready. He stood there waiting as she carefully measured ingredients, taking her sweet time. He checked his phone, noting the time between order and the expected delivery. 

“You’re going to end up getting me a low star rating,” he complained. 

Yennefer ignored his plight. “So I’ve asked around about you, Geralt. You used to be quite a soldier for hire back in the day, gallivanting across the lands-.” 

“I didn’t gallivant. I survived, like most people.” Geralt wiped a hand over his face, trying to rub his exhaustion away. “What else did you hear?” 

“That you’ve got a daughter,” Yennefer said as she finally poured out the coffee into three cups. “And that surprised me. You didn’t seem like the single dad type. Are you this grumpy around her?” 

Geralt crossed his arms. “I don’t know what you want, but leave her out of this.” 

Yennefer sighed as she brought over the food. “I just want to get to know you, and you’re so tight lipped I had to use other avenues.” She pushed the bag towards him across the counter-top and another cup for him. “I’ve given up my old sorceress ways, Geralt. I’m just another lost soul in this town, like you.” 

Yennefer looked away, and he hated how it tugged at his heartstrings to see her disappointed. He struggled between his sense of self-preservation and whatever sway this woman held over him. As he took the bags, he picked up the coffee she gave him and took a swig. 

When she smiled, he decided to take the risk. “When do you get off work?” 

* * *

Dating wasn’t exactly a skill set witchers learned in the cold stones of the fortress where they trained diligently to battle magical creatures. Then again, those days were a fading memory, nearly gone in the new world of smartphones and electric cars. 

Yennefer didn’t mind that he was absolutely inept at “modern courtship,” as she called it. They went walking along the Gwenllech River for their first date, and she bagged a few wild herbs for some spells. They swapped horror stories of the various wars and awful ways they’d been used by others to achieve terrible ends. 

It ended with Yennefer pouncing on him in a clearing, unashamed about the idea of anyone stumbling upon them. Geralt didn’t bother pretending he was mad about it. 

Their third date ended up being a battle. Geralt received word from an old friend of a werewolf attack in a town to the south. Yennefer closed up the cafe to run off with him for the week. It was amazing to fight again with someone magically inclined. They managed to save the boy who’d been bit. Afterwards, they returned back to their version of normal. 

Yennefer made him old style potions after the fight. “Just in case,” she said as she mixed ingredients in a back room of the cafe “I want you to stick around a little longer, Geralt.” 

He wrapped his arms around her waist, loose so she could still move her hands through the crafting of her work. “Most of the magical women I know usually want to slit my throat. Why don’t you?” 

“I won’t hold old grudges over some corpses I may or may not have known.” Yennefer turned to kiss him on the lips and push the potion into his hands. “I live, and I would like to keep you living, despite your awful swordsmanship.” 

“You’re just mad because I dealt the killing blow.”

“You cheated when my back was turned, and you know it.” Yennefer kissed him on his cheek. “Help me set up the shop for tomorrow and I might forgive you.” 

Done and done. 

* * *

Ciri eventually caught wind of his “secret girlfriend,” and caught him severely off guard when she just appeared in The Lodge one day. Yennefer waved and thumbed to her left. He discovered Ciri sitting at a table for two, her backpack at her feet and an open book on the table in front of her, pretending to study even though her eyes flickered to him and away again. 

Geralt walked over to his daughter, hands on his hips. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice mockingly angry. 

Ciri gave him her best innocent face. “What? I’m just doing my homework, and the tea here is quite nice.” She picked up her little saucer and cup, sipping on imaginary tea with a pinky finger extended. 

Geralt shook his head. “You are fooling no one.” 

Ciri put down her chinaware with a cheeky grin. “I could say the same for you, Geralt.” 

Yennefer appeared beside him, tugging on his arm. “Log out of work and let’s eat dinner together upstairs. My apartment is more than big enough for the three of us.” 

Bullied on both sides, Geralt couldn’t help but relent. 

Only two months in and Ciri was leaving things at Yennefer’s. A toothbrush, face wash, clothes, and eventually Yennefer just took everything out of the guest room for the girl to take over. Geralt found himself spending the night there more and more often. 

It got to a point where he was helping behind the counter of the cafe at off hours. Yennefer taught him the right scoops for the french press, how to get the right temperature for a boil that wouldn’t ruin the coffee beans. Baking was easy, he’d learned that skill long ago. Scones, tea cakes, all of it gave him no real challenge except for some reason he couldn’t get the hang of tiramisu, so Yennefer took point on that dessert. 

Of course, Ciri learned from them both, and brought in Instagram creations to try and replicate. He blanched at the very thought of “unicorn” frappes, but Yennefer allowed her to try when the cafe closed. And of course, a little magic lesson here and there, to spice things up. 

Three months in, and Geralt asked her as they laid in bed one night. “It might all be too fast, maybe?” 

Yennefer was making old runes against his chest. There was a long silence before she said, “I can’t have children. It was the sacrifice we had to make in order to be, well, powerful and beautiful. I was willing at the time, but…” 

Geralt wrapped his arms around her. “But you want a child now? My child?” 

“Ciri is amazing, Geralt, and there is strong magic within her.” She cupped his cheek and kissed him sweetly on his lips. “This world would destroy her, or she could destroy it.” A huge, bright smile came over her face. “I love her very much. I want to teach her everything I know, even if things between us somehow don’t work out.” 

Geralt opened his mouth to say something, one of the many perfectly logical reasons it was a bad idea, only to end up saying, “She still has to finish high school, too.” 

“Of course, what do you take me for?” Yennefer scoffed. “I’ve graduated from over three universities out of sheer boredom, I can manage a teenager’s homework load.” 

Four months in and Geralt didn’t remember moving into Yennefer’s place so much as getting forced into it by Ciri. She was a constant fixture behind the cafe’s counter by this point, a part-time barista and sorceress’ apprentice. He wished he could claim he was surprised, but he wasn’t. 

Perhaps they all should’ve been a little more careful, but when he moved the last of their things into the apartment above The Lodge, he couldn’t imagine choosing anything else. 

* * *

Ciri suggested the open mic night to Yennefer, and Geralt forever blamed her for bringing Jaskier into their lives. He helped set up the tables and was then roped into waiting on people. Bringing coffee and croissants to people felt like an extension of his day job, but Ciri was excited about her plan coming to fruition. 

Behind the cafe’s bar, Geralt watched as some girl named Sara attempted beat poetry, a boy named Keith attempted to play Wonderwall on a ukulele, a guy named Sam danced to some song from Jesus Christ Superstar, and the parade of ridiculousness continued for a grand two hours. 

Towards the end of the night, a man dressed up as some ren faire type outfit got up onto the stage with an actual lute, and Yennefer grasped at Geralt’s arm with glee. The young man flicked back his dark brown hair and gave the crowd a charming smile. 

“Hello all! I am Jaskier, a man of many talents. Tonight, I shall serenade you with the songs of yore.” 

“Please don’t,” Geralt grumbled and Yennefer smacked him on his chest. 

Jaskier tuned his strings. He started with a simple melody, and Geralt groaned as he recognized the tune. 

“What?” Both Ciri and Yennefer asked. 

“Ciri, upstairs, now!” Geralt ordered as Jaskier started in on his ballad. 

“Now listen my children, a story you'll hear.  
A song I will sing you; 'twill fill you with cheer!  
A charming young maiden was wed in the fall.  
She married a man who had no balls at all!” 

Yennefer screamed with laughter while the crowd roared in approval. Ciri’s eyes were wide, her mouth open in shock. Geralt walked over to push her towards the stairs as Jaskier started up yet again into the chorus. 

“No balls at all! No balls at all! She married a man who had no balls at aaaall.” 

“Upstairs, and don’t come down until I’ve kicked him out,” Geralt growled out as Ciri stumbled her way up to the safety of the apartment. 

“But why? He’s very good!” Ciri asked. “I mean, very inappropriate, but-.” 

Jaskier’s voice carried even louder into the next verse, trying to sing over the peals of laughter from the audience. 

“The night of the wedding she leaped into bed.  
Her breasts were a-heaving; her legs were well spread.  
She reached for his penis; his penis was small.  
She reached for his balls; he had no balls at all.” 

Geralt pointed up to the apartment again, and Ciri stomped away displeased. Yennefer ran over to intercept him from going through the small crowd to the singer. 

“Don’t, don’t! It’s so hilarious!” Yennefer said. 

Jaskier strummed on his strings all the harder. “No balls at all! No balls at all! She married a man who had no balls at aaaall.” 

Geralt shot Yennefer a deadpanned stare. “There are children here.” 

“Teenagers, Geralt, and you think they don’t listen to worse?” Yennefer put a hand on his chest. “It’s my cafe, and I say he can stay.” 

They locked eyes, getting into a battle of wills. As per usual, Geralt relented, turning away to go into the back storage areas of the cafe. He hoped if he closed the door he couldn’t hear out the rest of it, but...twas not to be. 

“Oh mother, oh mother, oh, what shall I do?  
I've married a man who's unable to screw!   
For many long years, I've avoided the call,  
now I've married a man who has no balls at all!

“Oh daughter, oh daughter, now don't feel so sad;  
I had the same trouble with your dear old dad.  
There are lots of young men who will answer the call  
of the wife of a man who has no balls at all.''

Geralt got out his smartphone and put in his headphones. He stewed in the back, still managing to hear laughter over his music. He wondered if he could make a poster banning the damned bard for life and just putting it up in the cafe window when Yennefer was out of town. 

Jaskier became a fixture of open mic night, much to Geralt’s displeasure. He managed to talk Yennefer into at least agreeing that Ciri should stay upstairs once the bard got up to play. Yennefer paid Jaskier under the table to perform, requesting songs she knew from her and Geralt’s era. 

It amused Geralt to no end how intimidated Jaskier was of Yennefer. He would order his coffee with a stammer, often avoiding her gaze. Instead, he seemed rather fond of irritating Geralt. 

“Good sir, another!” He called out one night, wiggling his coffee mug in Geralt’s direction. 

Geralt snatched the cup out of his hand. “If you ever attempt to smash the cups on the floor, Jaskier, I will toss you out on your backside.” 

“Promises, promises!” Jaskier winked at him, utterly fearless.

Geralt leaned over the table. The others around Jaskier all hurried out of the way, knocking over chairs in their haste to move far away from the menacing aura Geralt spent centuries perfecting. Jaskier leant back putting up a hand. 

“Now, now, Geralt, no need to loom.” He laughed a bit nervously. “The cup isn’t smashed, I’m just making jest!” 

Geralt got into his face. “Jaskier, you’re a menace.” 

Jaskier put up a finger. “A charming and delightful menace?” 

“Not even.” Geralt moved to stand upright again. “You’re getting one more mocha and then you’re cut off.”

“What? But this isn’t a bar! It’s coffee.” Jaskier begged with wide eyes. “Please, Geralt, don’t make me go to a bar for a drink. The men there aren’t as dashing as you!” 

“You’re hyper enough as it is. You don’t need more caffeine.” Geralt walked away to the counter. 

Using the method Yennefer taught him, Geralt poured the mix of cocoa powder and dark roast coffee grinds into the french press. Meanwhile on the small stove-top to his right, he took off the top of the double boiler and replaced it with a clean one. He melted dark chocolate on one side, and pushed the press to make coffee with the other. He poured the coffee into a mug and while it was still hot, slowly stirred in the melted chocolate. 

And because he was a child, Jaskier liked marshmallows on top. 

When he turned around, the irritant was already on the other side of the counter. He put his forearms on the smooth wood, loosely folding his fingers together. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like the kind of man who would pour coffee for a living.” Jaskier tilted his head. “What’s your story, Geralt?” 

The witcher in question pushed the cup across the counter. “It’s on the house if you stop asking questions.” 

Jaskier didn’t skip a beat, pulling over a fiver from his pocket. “Your hair and eyes are so unique. I’ve never seen anyone like you.” 

Geralt just stared at him. “That’s not as much of a compliment as you think it is.” Geralt turned around to clean out the press and put his stirring spoons into the sink. 

“Come on, Geralt! Tell me your story, and I’ll write a song about it. A really good one, I swear.” Jaskier crossed his finger over his chest in an X even though Geralt didn’t see it. “Cross my heart! It’ll be a masterpiece!” 

“No thanks,” Geralt got a towel to dry everything off. “Why don’t you ask Yennefer? I’m sure she’ll regale you with old stories.” 

“Will I now?” Yennefer appeared with three empty cups and a bemused expression on her face. “What for?” 

Jaskier whined at her. “I want to write songs, but Geralt won’t tell me his story!” 

“Oh, well you should do what I did! Ask him on a date.” Yennefer just smirked at Geralt’s death glare. 

“Well, if I had your blessing?” Jaskier’s eyes flicked between Geralt and Yennefer, his smile faltering a bit. “But I wouldn’t want to impose on-.” 

“Oh, Jaskier, don’t you worry. Geralt lives with me, but I don’t own him like he's a common dog.” She winked at her angry partner. “If he wants to go on a date with a pretty little singer, who am I to stop him?” 

* * *

The very not official date took place at a ren faire, because of course it did. Geralt went with Jaskier after a lot of grumbling and muttering, but he still ended up getting tugged along by the singer through the various corset and puffy pants wearing folk. Jaskier bought him a turkey leg, and Geralt begrudgingly ate it. 

“Have you ever been to a faire before?” Jaskier asked him far too late in the day. 

Geralt nodded. “A long time ago.” He turned to Jaskier. “You fit right in.”

Jaskier laughed. “I would hope so! I’ve worked in the cast every year. Wanna guess my name?” 

Geralt quirked a brow. “It’s not your usual name?” 

“No, no, of course not. All the cast have a different name, one that suits their personality.” Jaskier motioned to his outfit. 

He wore a heavy overcoat over a poet shirt, the frills of the neckline dangling over the collar of the jacket. The overcoat was lined with embroidered trimmings, gold and white. The coat went down to his mid-thigh, where his pale brown stocks disappeared into brown boots. His lute was hung across his back, completing the bard look. 

“So, what name would you give me?” Jasker asked.

Geralt stared at him for a beat. “Jester?” 

“Haha, no, try again.” Jaskier grabbed his arm and steered him towards a huge open tent. Women in tall turret hats were singing bawdy madrigals while people at tables ate bread and bratwursts with beer pretending to be ale. 

“I’ve got to perform in a moment, do take a seat!” Jaskier bowed with a flourish and ran up to a small stage in the middle of the tent. 

He started singing a song that technically didn’t count as a madrigal, but Geralt figured none of the audience knew by their laughter. The second song was also not old, definitely a modern tune. For a long while, he tried to figure out the song, knowing he’d heard it before but couldn’t figure out from where.

When Jaskier got off the stage and walked over to him, Geralt had to ask, “What song was that? I know it.” 

Jaskier whispered into his ear, “I tweaked the Seven Deadly Sins from Flogging Molly and put it to a lute, shush! Don’t break the illusion.” He plopped down into his chair and shouted, “Ale for two!” 

Geralt rolled his eyes. “So you don’t just listen to ballads and bawdy songs all day?” 

“Honestly? I listen to anything once. I prefer Celtic rock or some kind of rock, but anything is fine.” Jaskier nudged him with his elbow. “And you?”

“Metal.” Geralt said, “I like that it drowns out the outside noise.” 

Jaskier sighed. “You wear black from head to toe, you listen to metal, and you wear a constant frown on your face. Has anyone ever told you the goth look is so over?”

Geralt glared at him. “I’m not the one hanging out in medieval play areas.” 

“It’s a summer job and hobby, I’ll have you know! I have more than this to my life.” Jaskier thanked the ‘serving wench’ and paid her for the drinks. 

“So what else do you do?” Geralt asked, finding himself curious despite everything. 

Jaskier grinned. “I’m a music teacher, actually. I teach at the middle school down in the valley. I come up here in the summer to get away from my students.” He waved a hand around at the madrigal girls and boys. “But I teach them, too. Most of the choir and I have been doing this for years. They’re mostly college kids on break, trying to earn a little before the next semester.” 

Geralt tilted his head. “They trust you around kids?” 

“Of course! I’m a consummate professional.” Jaskier looked around before he discreetly brought out his smartphone. “Here, I’ll show you.” 

The bard brought up his Facebook pictures, showing off a very different version of him with a button up white shirt and grey vest. A bunch of kids stood around him with instruments, getting ready to go on a bus. Jaskier scrolled down to show more pictures of him conducting in front of a classroom with a tux on. 

“We’ve been to the regionals and semi-finals, but we’ve never managed a championship trophy, sadly.” Jaskier pocketed the phone when a big, bearded man entered the tent. “Can’t be seen with high tech while at the fair.” 

Geralt took a gulp of his so-called ale. “Hm, this is…”

“Terrible, I know, but it’s cheap.” Jaskier took a gulp of his own and made a face. “It’s all you can drink for three hours.” 

Geralt stared at the cup, then back to Jaskier. “Sounds like a challenge.” 

* * *

They ended up stumbling into the cafe at an ungodly hour. Yennefer tossed them blankets and told them both to take the couch upstairs to sleep off their idiocy. When they woke up entangled, Geralt wasn’t so much regretful as resigned. 

Yennefer convinced Geralt and Jaskier to a group date that weekend. Jaskier bumbled his way hilariously through conversations with her, and it amused Geralt to no end. The picnic spot they chose was in a secluded little area up the mountains, a place Yennefer used for arcane arts at certain moon phases. 

Jaskier and Yennefer were talking about the open mic night and how it could be improved, when the hairs on the back of Geralt’s neck stood up on end. He shot up, scanning the trees around them. Yennefer grabbed Jaskier, slapping a hand over his mouth. 

Geralt moved two steps over to his bag, grabbing a potion and his short sword. He cursed himself for not bringing his stronger blades. Yennefer mumbled an incantation under her breath, and Geralt recognized it as a protection charm, no doubt aimed at Jaskier. 

The harpy shot out from the forest line, heading straight for Yennefer. Jaskier dove out of the way with a scream, and Geralt grabbed at him. “Stay out of sight!” 

Yennefer threw a shot of magic at the beast. It screeched in agony, falling to the ground. Yennefer pulled a pouch out of her pocket, pulling out a crystal. She crushed it in her hand and tossed the powder at the harpy’s mutated face. It screamed again, stumbling to its feet, wings beating erratically. 

Geralt tossed back the potion and ran up to the harpy’s side. He stabbed it in the side, his sword hissing as it burned the beast from within. His eyes changed as he stabbed at the beast again, trying to hit its heart. 

The harpy shook, trying to dislodge him. Geralt held on even as it ascended to the sky again. Yennefer summoned her magic and threw a fireball at the harpy’s chest, nearly hitting Geralt. The smell of charred flesh was noxious. Geralt grabbed hold of the harpy’s neck, squeezing tight. The blood ran down his sword and arm, surely the creature would fall soon? 

The harpy kicked him in the chest. The hit sent him falling down, and he crashed hard on his back. He heard cracking sounds, but ignored them. Yennefer sent a volley of dark magic at the harpy, but it didn’t affect it much. How could it be so strong?

Geralt stood up with a groan. The harpy’s blood still spilled, but it didn’t seem to weaken. His sword slipped out from the creature’s ribs, falling to the earth. Geralt ran over to grab it again. He picked it up and threw it like a javelin. 

Finally! The sword struck true, dead center. With a warbling cry, it collapsed down onto their picnic area. Geralt limped over to get his sword from the corpse. Yennefer looted crystals from around the neck. 

“These should come in handy,” she said as she put them in her pouch. 

Geralt looked around the clearing. “Jaskier?” he called out. 

“HOLY HELL!” Jaskier tumbled out from behind a bush. “You-you two just fought that thing? And it was huge?! And you know magic? What?!” The bard’s face suddenly split into a huge smile. “This is the most amazing relationship I’ve ever been in. You’re both amazing!” 

Yennefer flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Glad you approve.” 

Geralt rolled his blackened eyes and grumbled. “I need a shower.” 

* * *

Ciri stayed the night at a friend’s house for the weekend, leaving the adults full range of the apartment to get to know each other better. Geralt had threesomes before, but this felt different, more permanent. Yennefer had fun getting Jaskier tied up and left at her mercy. In the daytime, they watched horrible horror movies on Netflix. 

Geralt and Yennefer told Jaskier about their pasts, and he couldn’t get enough of their tales. He loved everything, even the mundane stories about taking care of horses. Still, Geralt discovered he could easily distract the bard with a long kiss and tossing him on their bed. 

On night, Geralt woke up at 3 a.m. to the sound of a lute getting strummed to the tune of “Greensleeves.” He turned over to see Yennefer still deep asleep, but on the other side the blankets were tossed aside. Gently, he got out of the covers and left the room.

He found Jaskier sitting in a chair with some shorts on and nothing else. Geralt moved over to him. Jaskier gave him a sad smile, putting his lute on the table. 

“It’s late,” Geralt said. 

“I know.” Jaskier wiped a hand over his face. “I’m just...thinking about everything.” 

After a beat of just silence, Geralt grabbed another chair to sit across from him. He held out his hands, offering. “Do you need to talk about it?” 

Jaskier put his hands out, interlocking their fingers. “I’ve just, I don’t know…” He sighed, casting his eyes to the side. “I’ve never had something this good before.” 

Geralt squeezed his hands. “Neither have I.” He picked up one of Jaskier’s hands to kiss the knuckles, one by one. 

“Is this really ok?” Jaskier asked him. “It feels like I’ve got too much.”

“Boys, honestly,” Yennefer said as she walked into the kitchen naked, “you’re thinking too much.” She pulled open a cupboard door. “I’m making you both a sleeping tonic. I hate having a cold bed.” 

“Sorry, Yen,” Jaskier said softly, “I’m just a bit off tonight.” 

Yennefer nodded as she shuffled the tea leaves into a pot. “It’s allowed.” 

Geralt’s eyes stayed on Yennefer as she got the tonic ready. Jaskier poked him in the chest. “You’re enjoying the view.” 

Geralt just smirked. “And you’re not?” 

Jaskier just laughed nervously when Yennefer turned to give him a full frontal view. “I-I’m not the one with my eyes glued to her butt!” 

Yennefer and Geralt shared a look. The sorceress put her items off to the side. 

“There are other ways to make a man exhausted,” Yennefer said as she motioned with a come-hither finger. 

Geralt took the hint, pulling Jaskier up and over his shoudler. 

“Unhand me!” Jaskier complained as they moved back to the bedroom. “I can walk just fine! Geralt!” 

Luckily, there weren’t as many complaints come morning. 

* * *

Music Credit, it comes with sheet music for people with ukuleles caught in quarantine: http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/bawdy-songs/007360.HTM


End file.
